


please don't think i let you go. ( i'll never let go. )

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, canon up to 9x06, ian goes to find mickey in mexico after he gets out, mickey never finds out ian is in prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ian Gallagher spends a year alone in prison after the whole Gay Jesus disaster. After coming home to an empty house and meeting with his corrupted parole officer he knows there is nothing left for him in Chicago. He does the only thing that makes sense, he goes to find Mickey.AU: Mickey never finds out Ian is going to prison so he never turns himself in so when Ian gets released from prison he realizes he needs to find him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 32
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello so here is my new baby, I truly hope everyone enjoys cause I'm very excited about it! What was just Shelby and I fucking around with au ideas and sending paragraphs to each other turned into THIS. So, thank you so much Shelby i adore you. And, just thank you to Willa and Vic for always inspiring me.

The sun blinds Ian as he walks out of the prison, hand up to shield him from the rays as he walks towards the gate that he entered from just a year ago. Seeing his brother standing there, waiting for him, makes him smile and it feels like he hasn’t done that in over a year. Prison was rough on Ian, there’s an exhaustion that feels so deep it feels as though it’s seeped into his bones and the weight of it feels heavy. He constantly had to look over his shoulder, never felt like he actually got any sleep. His cellmate wasn’t too bad, kind of annoying and a talker but nothing he couldn’t handle but still, sharing such a confined space with someone you don’t know in an environment like that isn’t exactly relaxing. 

“Hey, how was prison? Turn you gay?” Ian laughs, because it’s his brother and he missed him, missed his stupid jokes. 

“Yeah, I’m a big ‘ol cock hound now…..if you weren’t my brother.” The joke comes out easily and they laugh together on opposite sides of the gate. He feels his shoulders relax for the first time in a year.

He’s through the gate and he falls into his brother, it’s disguised as a hug but really he collapses against him from the exhaustion of holding himself up, from the exhaustion having to be strong and now not having to be. 

His big brother is here. He doesn’t have to be strong right now.

He breathes in and catches that smell of home that he misses so much. 

They start walking, talking about Fred and Tami as they walk, he makes fun of Lip's cute lady car he’s driving and he doesn’t linger or look back at the building before getting into the car. 

The car ride home was mostly  **_( all )_ ** spent by Lip talking about his love for Fred and how much he loves being a dad, and while Ian wants to smile and be happy for him because he knows how much he wanted this, how long he’s been aching for it, Ian can’t really seem to get passed a light smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes but Lip isn’t paying attention, Ian could probably jump out of the moving car right now and Lip wouldn’t notice. 

**_He’s just so tired._ **

After a quick back and forth of Lip handing him his vape then taking it back and doing that multiple times Ian is finally inside, yelling out the names of his family members, looking for anyone that he loves to give them a hug but only finds a fuck ton of food and a fuck ton of people that he doesn’t know. 

Making his way up the stairs he had so many times before, usually he’d go two at a time but he’s too exhausted to do that. 

Nothing has changed, everything still looks the same. This is home. But, at the same time it feels like everything has changed, moved on without him and he doesn’t know how to shake that feeling away as he goes into each room looking for a family member to hug, squeeze and tell them he missed them but there’s no one there. 

He’s walking back towards the boys room when he about jumps out of his skin, feeling something other than exhaustion for the first time since being released and he’s back to being on high alert, ready to protect himself but that quickly dissolves when he realizes it’s just tami and his nephew. 

_ He’s in his home, this isn’t prison. _

“Hi fred! I’m your uncle Ian!” Voice high, excitement up. Maybe change is good, maybe it doesn’t matter that the entire family isn’t home to greet him because he’s got this baby he can snuggle on but then Tami is walking away, saying something about meeting him later because she needs to shower and he closes the bathroom door for her leaving him there alone once again. 

He sighs, sitting down on the dresser in the hallway and sighs. This is home, this is the home he’s had his entire life. Always forgotten, always put on the backburner. He was always okay with it, it was easier to get away with everything he was doing when he was a kid if no one was really looking at him. 

But now, is there anything really left for him here? Everyone has moved on, everyone has their own life. He wasn’t expecting everything at home to just stop while he was in prison but he might’ve hoped it would stop for just a minute so he could be welcomed home. But even now, sitting in the hallway alone, he’s nothing but proud of his family for everything. He sighs, this is home. 

“Welcome home, Ian.” 

He checks his watch, he’s got an hour before he has to go meet his parole officer so he might as well go ahead and go, be early because he’s sure they’ll like that and right now he’s trying to do everything he can to be on their good side so he doesn’t get sent back there. He can’t be sent back there. 

Since there’s no one around to drive him, he makes his way down the street to the L. He looks around the neighborhood he grew up in and he sees everything differently, he knows this is his home but it all feels so foreign to him. It feels like a lifetime ago when really it was only a year. He walks like he did in prison, he walks like he has to protect himself when just last year he walked down these streets and was comfortable. 

He’s a different person, just like when he came back from the whole army disaster he was a different person and the places looked different, felt different but at least he had - a pause, mentally kicking himself. 

At least he had Mickey. 

But, he really fucked that one up. Fucked up and lost him, decided not to go to mexico because he had his shit together only to get thrown in jail. He never had his shit together he was just fucking scared of losing everything he’s ever known, scared of losing his family, losing the “normal” life he craved so much after his diagnoses. He had a taste of it but, it looks like in the end, he lost that too. 

He’s still thinking about Mickey as he gets on the L, thinking about all the times they sat here together just quietly - never really saying a word. He never lets himself think about the man, never thinks he deserves to but right now, it’s calming. 

Even when Mickey was loud and quick to use his fist, quick to defend himself in the only way he knew how - Mickey was calming for him. 

He can’t think about it anymore, he can’t sit there and let his mind wonder to what they’d be doing right now if he was in mexico instead of just spending the last year of his life in prison when he was supposed to be a different person, when he was supposed to be saving people with an emt jacket on not pretending to be some gay jesus that everyone looked up to and letting it get to his head. 

He’s off the train and walking towards his PO’s office. Now ee thinks about how he could be doing this with Mickey if he had waited, if he had just told Mickey he would wait for him like he knew he wanted to. But, he was trying to start over, he was running from himself, he was trying to be a completely different person and you can’t be a completely different person with the person that makes you whole, the person that makes you, you. Ian was embarrassed and scared to ruin Mickey’s life more than he had already but he ruined it anyway. 

_ Jesus Christ, Gallagher - day one home from the slammer and you can’t get Mickey Milkovich out of your head.  _

He’s sure it’s karma coming back to bite him in the ass for everything because Ian was so alone in prison, so terrified and eventually everyone’s life got busy and stopped visiting, it’s okay - he understands because at least they’d still call but Mickey didn’t have any of that, he knows Mickey didn’t have any of that and he hates himself for it. 

He tried not to think about it in prison but he has to admit that the thought did come to him when he was laying on the top bunk one night, thinking about everything and shockingly but not shockingly Mickey popped into his head like he does sometimes when he just wants to NOT think about him because then he misses him, then gets mad at himself for missing him.

But Mickey did pop into his head and he silently cried himself to sleep that night. 

Now, walking into the office he has to let those thoughts go. He has to be on his game, turn on that Ian Gallagher charm and pretend like he has his shit together because he needs to get his life together, he needs to prove that he’s really not that person anymore or else watching Mickey cross the border alone was all for nothing. 

He talks to his parole officer, she seems fine enough, seems like she doesn’t really care which is fine, she probably has a lot of these first meetings that just end with the person back behind bars. He’s rambling though, going on about his plans for the future and how he fucked up but plans to never do it again. How he has his family and how they’re his rock even if he can’t really believe that right now. He just wants to be better,  **_he is better_ ** . 

She tells him to follow him, drug test, he’s clean so this isn’t going to be a problem. Except then she’s getting into the stall and that’s when his entire plan goes to shit. That’s when once again his world falls apart. That’s when he knows he really fucked it all up. 

He’s standing outside the bathroom, her piss in his hand and  **_jesus_ ** he can’t do this. He can’t spend the next year of his life just doing whatever the fuck it is she has planned for him. He can’t.  **_He can’t._ **

He’s out of there, running and he knows for the first time he’s doing something “reckless” not because he’s manic but because this is the only thing that’s ever made any sense. It’s the only thing he can do. 

He makes it home, there’s still no one there. He doesn’t let himself linger, he can’t stay, he knows he can’t stay because he’s already fucked up his parole and he’s sure Paula has already turned in “his” sample. 

_ There’s no going back _ .

There’s no looking around his room, there’s no standing in the middle of the kitchen and the living room, thinking about all the memories and how much his family means to him. There’s none of that, there can’t be any of that. He packs his bag and once he’s done with that he sits on his bed to type out a text to Lip because he at least deserves that. 

He’s not that kid who just fucks off to the army without telling anyone anymore. He’s just the man who is going to get his man. 

_ I’m going to Mexico. I need to see him. You were right that night at the kitchen table to be surprised that I didn’t go with him because I should’ve. I’m going to now. He probably won’t want to see me and I fucked it all up but I can’t be here, I don’t belong here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you. I know I’ll regret not seeing Fred grow up, just tell him that his uncle Ian loves him. I’m so proud of you. Don’t pull a Lip and fuck it up ; ) _

He doesn’t hit send yet, he’ll wait until he’s almost there. When it’ll be too late no matter the response because he knows if there’s anyone that can talk him out of it without even saying anything it’s Lip. His best friend, his brother. The person he loves most in this world. He doesn’t want to miss out on everything Lip is going to be, on everything his nephew ( and niece ) is going to be. He doesn’t want to miss out on watching his family be the people he always knew they could be. 

But his heart isn’t here and it hasn’t been for a while. 

He hates that it took prison to realize the fuck ups he made but isn’t that what prison is for? 

Well, maybe not this situation exactly - it’s probably for the complete opposite. But, he doesn’t care.  **_He doesn’t care._ **

He shoves clothes, his medicine and journal into a bag. He’s going to have to figure out how to get his medication because he refuses to not be on medication, he refuses to be that person again. He won’t do that Mickey ( if Mickey even wants anything to do with him ), and he won’t do that to himself. 

Ian takes one last look at the room, the room he grew up in, even though he told himself he wasn’t going to, he couldn’t help it. He sighs, hand on the wall as he looks around the room then he’s gone. 

Down the stairs and out the door, all in a rush just refusing to look anywhere but in front of him. 

He realizes he’s walking tall and trying to make himself bigger than he already is, scarier just like he did in prison but he needs to be smaller, he needs to not be recognized. He needs to do whatever the fuck Mickey would do so he goes into the closest shop and buys a hair clipper instead of hair dye. He feels like he should still be himself, look like himself but he knows he needs to not get caught. He buys clothes that look nothing like anything he’d buy and he’s on his way.

He’s back to walking to the bus station. The only thing he can think about is getting to Mickey, to finally doing what some would see as impulsive and probably check him into a mental hospital for but to him, finally doing what makes the most sense.

Once at the bus station he goes into the bathroom and pulls out the clippers, he knows this is probably the last place he should be doing it but as he’s locked in this tiny bathroom with the clippers on the side of the tiny sink he finally sends the text to lip. He was going to do it when he was further out, when he was hours away but he needs to do it now. He needs to say goodbye to his brother, he needs to feel like this isn’t some impulsive decision but instead finally being himself. 

He turns on the clippers and shaves off his hair, watching the hair fall to the ground like it’s his old life or something sentimental like that. Once his hair is buzzed, he throws on his beanie and sunglasses. His shirt has something about tits on it that he’s sure Mickey will get a kick out of and he’s wearing shorts. 

He looks in the mirror and stares. 

Even with all this ridiculous bullshit on he recognizes himself and that is rare for him so that has to count for something.

He doesn’t clean up the hair, doesn’t even take the clippers with him, just shoves his old clothes into his bag, drops his phone into the trash and he’s out the door. 

\---

And back at the gallagher house, Lip sits on the couch in the living room, reading the text over and over again smiling to himself. Happy for his little brother, knowing it’s not mania but instead doing exactly what he thought Ian would always do - go back to Mickey.

\---

Ian doesn’t sleep the entire bus ride, he tries to read and he tries to listen to music while his leg bounces, annoying the fuck out of the people around him but he doesn’t care nor notice. All he can think about is seeing Mickey. He thinks about all the things they’re finally going to be able to do, he thinks about the life they can possibly have. 

He’s stressed about being on the run, he’s stressed about it all but he knows in the end it’s the right choice. It’s the choice he should’ve made the last time he had the chance to make it. 

He makes it across the border, he doesn’t know how he does it without getting caught because he’s sure the face he wore was nothing but suspicious. He chooses not to question it too much. 

Where does he start? How is he supposed to find Mickey? What if he’s not even here anymore?

He figures he’s dealing drugs in some way so he just has to find someone selling drugs. Yeah, this will be easy. 

He starts walking around, looking for any kind of “suspicious activity” but he grew up on the southside so is anything really “suspicious activity” to him?

Walking for what feels like hours and then he sees Damon, just sitting there with a brown paper bag talking to a few other guys. 

**_Holy fuck,_ ** _ he might actually have a chance.  _

Yeah okay, those guys could totally kick his ass and he’s sure Damon wants to get a few hits in for leaving him that time. If he even remembers who the fuck he is, if he even has a clue where the fuck Mickey might be. 

He walks over, chewing on his lip and he’s back to his prison stance, standing with his chest out and making himself bigger, walking like he has a purpose. Face straight despite the terror he’s currently feeling. Not for getting his ass kicked, his ass has been kicked many times and he even got shanked in prison for letting some asshole comment slip one time (he never let it happen again) but instead he’s terrified he made it all the way here and he’s not going to be able to find Mickey. 

Not thinking about that little detail until now. 

“Damon?” 

“Who the fuck asking?” He doesn’t look up, eyes still on whatever the fuck is in that brown paper bag. 

“Ian? Gallagher?” 

That seems to get his attention because he’s looking up, a laugh like he couldn’t believe it but also like he expected it. 

“No shit, Gallagher made it.”

Damon is standing now, shaking his head as he does it. “Still angry ‘bout you fuckers leaving me in fuckin’ nowhere.”

An apologetic look on Ian’s face as he looks down, struggling to find the words to apologize but knowing if he’s going to find Mickey he has to suck it up. “Yeah, sorry about that.” 

“No worries, kid. Mick’s already made up for it.” 

Damon knows where Mickey is, at least enough to make up for it.  **_Whatever the fuck that means._ **

“So, you know where he is?”

“Maybe but don’t think he wants to see you.” 

Ian’s heart breaks at that, not that it’s unexpected but to hear it from someone else it hurts. 

“Can you just tell me where he is?” Teeth gritting together, jaw clenching. “Please.”

“You’re really desperate there, huh?” 

Ian nods tightly. He needs to see Mickey, he needs to just - he needs Mickey. 

“Look, I don’t know where the fuck he lives, never lets any of us near his place but I got a friend, he works at a bar - it’s down the street. Mickey’s always in there I’m sure he can give you somethin’.” 

Ian’s eyes water, there’s some hope. He nods quickly, walking backwards. “Thank you.” and before he can turn around Damon speaks again. 

“Look kid, he was fuckin’ messed up. He’s finally got his shit together. Don’t want you goin’ around hurting this guy again, got it?”

He smiles a little bit,  _ Mickey has his shit together _ .

“Got it.” Because he does, he’s more than got it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Mickey, it’s the last thing he’s ever wanted to but somewhere along the way he did, more than once and he hates himself for it. He can blame it on his disease all he wants, on wanting to protect Mickey from everything he went saw growing up but at the end of the day, it was him. He did it, he hurt Mickey.

He could really use a Lip talk right about now. 

He’s on his way, finding the bar that Damon was talking about. Walking fast, he’s on a mission. 

Opening the heavy door, walking in and going straight to the bar. 

“Whatcha ordering?” 

“Not ordering, does Mickey come in here?” 

“Who the fuck is asking?”

**_Jesus christ._** “Old... ** _friend_** ,” that one hurts to say. “Have you seen him or not?” Patience running thin, he just wants Mickey. 

“Really? Didn’t realize Milkovich had any friends. Uh, he’s living upstairs. Got a few apartments up there, he’s the last door on the left.”

Ian smiles, wide and he shoves some dollar bills his way even though he didn’t order anything just for the inconvenience and he’s up the stairs, two at a time. 

He’s going to see Mickey. His heart is beating, it’s beating fast and it hurts but still, he walks all the way to the end of the hall and stands in front of the door for a solid ten seconds before he knocks on the last door on the left. 

Some guy opens the door, Ian’s heart sinks. 

“Mickey here?” 

The guy, sandwich in his mouth just raises a brow and points to the door across the hall before shutting the door again. 

Oh, this is the  **_right_ ** . 

He hears the door open behind him and he turns around, quick and his breath catches in his throat as he sees the man he just spent who even knows how many hours trying to find.

The man he’s been looking for since the last time he saw him even when he didn’t know it. 

It’s like time stops. Time might literally have stopped. He knows it’s impossible but  _ holy fuck _ so is the fact Mickey is standing right in front of him. 

He just spent an entire bus ride trying to decide what he was going to say but all that goes out the window when his eyes land on him. 

When he sees his bright blue eyes and slightly longer hair, he has stubble  _ and he looks so fucking good.  _

“Mick. Fuck - Mick.” 

He has no idea what to say and by the looks of it neither does Mickey. 

They stand there just looking at each other for what feels like hours but it couldn’t be more than a minute. 

Ian still can’t seem to find the words and before he could, Mickey is walking past him and down the stairs. 

Gone. 

Ian sighs, watching him walk away like they’ve both done so many times before.

But, Ian refuses to give up. He can handle Mickey ignoring him, he did it so many times before. He figured this wasn’t going to be easy and it was going to take a lot of time but Ian is willing to put in that time. 

Ian is willing to fight for Mickey. 

It’s time he fights for Mickey.

He leans against the door and slides down it, sitting and leaning his head against the door.

He’ll wait for as long as he needs to. He’ll wait for Mickey to come back. He’s going to wait this time. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Mickey and his time in mexico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ! Thank you Shelby for reading this and just being you. Thank you my friends Willa, Vic and Michelle for just being you and always inspiring me. I hope everyone is staying safe, drinking water and still signing those petitions. AND ! I hope you enjoy this little look at Mickey's life without Ian.

Crossing the border was the easiest part for Mickey because at that point he had nothing to lose, the one thing he’s ever had he just had to drive away from. He drives for a few miles, hands on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. Angry tears and tears of sadness, of abandonment threatening to fall but he forces himself to not until he can’t anymore. 

He pulls over to the side of the road, tears falling. Head leans forward to rest against the steering wheel, it’s quiet - he’s always had to cry quietly in fear of being caught. 

But there’s no one here to catch him, there’s no one here to give him a black eye or make fun of him. There’s no one here to give him pity the way Ian does, that puppy dog look he always gave him that he soon realized was just Ian caring. 

There’s no one here.  **_There’s no one here._ **

So, he screams out into the empty car. Fists hit the steering wheel as he screams. He lets it out in ways he’s never been able to before. Tears streaming down his face. 

He needs to get the fuck out of this car that feels like it’s slowly closing in on him. He opens the door, not realizing the car wasn’t in park yet so he jerks forward but then the car is in park, turned off and he’s outside of it. 

“Fucking  **_Gallagher_ ** .” He kicks the tire, causing it go flat and he sighs, a bitter laugh - yeah, that seems about fuckin’ right. 

He wants to scream again, kick some more things, cry some more. He wants to throw a tantrum but he also wants to be silent, he wants to be numb. He wants to feel nothing. 

Eyes land on the money on the dash in the car.  **_Of course_ ** , of course he had to do one last thing for him, had to prove that once again Ian Gallagher loves him but can’t be with him. He doesn’t know if that makes him want to smile or if it makes him want to puke. 

He decides to do neither instead decides to just grab the money, shoving it into his back pocket. He has nothing else except for the hoodie in the front seat. 

It’s Ian’s. He stares at it. Does he take it? It probably smells like him. 

This is a new life, this is him starting over because if Ian can do it then fuck it, so can he. If Ian can make a life so good without him that it makes him decide that he isn’t enough then fuck, he can do that too.  **_Right?_ **

He can’t though -  **_Fucked for life._ **

So, he grabs the hoodie, throwing it on. 

The fabric smells like Ian’s body soap, ketchup he dropped on it from a burger just a few hours ago and cigarette smoke. Smells a little bit like the Gallagher house, he doesn’t even know how to describe it but it’s familiar, in a calming way. 

It’s the smell that makes you smile, like you’re coming home even when it’s not your home.    
  
That was the Gallagher house for him. Calm, safe and even though not really his home -  **_home_ ** . 

Has Mickey ever really had a home though? 

He can’t really call what he grew up in a home. It was a house but never a home. Not when he tiptoed around it his entire life. Not when fists were used instead of word and when words were used they were not kind, just violent and made him scared to even breathe. Not when his head was slammed against the walls more than once. Not when that one day happened there. It was never a home, just a house.   
  
The Gallagher house he could almost consider a home. He felt more comfortable in it than he ever did the house that was technically his. Even if sometimes he felt out of place by the way the Gallaghers just easily moved around each other, how they spoke to each other because he never had that. The way they sat down for dinner and helped each other. Spoke without fists and words that weren’t just threats. He was uncomfortable but still comfortable. It was easy, finding his place in that house because no one ever slows down long enough for you to have the chance to linger. It was loud and it was busy but it was comfortable, he felt safe but maybe that was just Ian. In the end it was a home but it was never his. 

Juvie and prison could be considered his home. He’s probably spent more time in each than either of those two houses. It felt safe sometimes, as fucked as that was. Sometimes he threw himself in there because that was the only place he knew he was safe from his own father, and knew if he didn’t get locked up that the next place he’d stay would be the morgue. 

**_Hell_ ** \- he probably wouldn’t even make it to a morgue because Terry would just have his brothers dig a hole for him in some empty lot, throw him in there and call it a day. 

He had all these places he stayed and none of them were his home. 

But the smell of this jacket, the way it wraps around him like a hug because it’s so big. It reminds him of home. 

He knows why, he knows exactly why but he doesn’t want to think about. 

There’s a honk behind him, he ignores it because holy fuck does he not have the energy for whatever hippie wants to give him a ride. 

“Milkovich **_!_ ** ” That causes him to stop. His last name making the hairs on his arm stand up. 

Crossing the border he didn’t care about getting caught but now he’s here and despite knowing there’s no way he’s ever going to have a real future, despite having no idea where the fuck he goes from here he doesn’t really want to get locked back up. 

He turns, brows raising as he sees a car full of people and alright the universe or whatever the fuck really loves to torture him. 

“Damon?” Fuck - he’s gonna get a bullet to the head or some shit for what he pulled. 

“Yeah fucker, it’s me. Just get the fuck in.” Mickey’s confused and he wants to decline it, be an asshole, just flip him off and do this all on his own but he’s got fuck all right now, there is no choice here.

Damon had the plan on what the fuck to do after crossing the border. Mickey was only thinking about  **_Ian_ ** . That seems to bite him in the ass  **_again_ ** .

So, Mickey sighs and he gets in the car. He has no idea who the two people in front are but he just grunts towards them after getting in and closing the door. 

“Where’s the wife?” Mickey knows Damon is joking, knows he has no idea what the fuck he’s been through so he can’t really get mad at the joke but still, he does. 

Where the fuck is his wife? The one that he was forced to marry and then divorced him when he was no good for her anymore. When she only visited him when she could make money off it, bringing Ian into it too. That wife? He’s got no fucking clue and he’s couldn’t give a fuck.

Mickey flips him off though, like it doesn’t bother him the way he does.

The car is quiet after that, just spanish music playing through the shitty speakers in the shitty car. 

Mickey must’ve fallen asleep at some point because he’s waking up with a hand on his shoulder, sitting up with a terrified gasp with fists up ready to fight whoever needs to be. 

Damon’s eyes roll, he’s used to it. Happened all the time in prison.

“Fuckin’ here, man. Get the fuck up.”

Mickey has no idea where the fuck “here” is but he nods towards the people in the front seat as a thanks then gets out. 

It’s a bar.

Perfect. Exactly what he needs. 

Damon smiles, tapping the car hood as he walks towards the front door. 

“C’mon, Milkovich. Come meet my family.”

And he does, he watches them all hug him like they haven’t seen him in ten years and it’s probably not far off. 

He knows his family would never give him that kind of welcome home. 

“This is Mickey. Gonna help me run some drugs.”

He’s not sure when the fuck he agreed to that or why the fuck Damon is helping him out after Mickey was a complete dick to him but he’s not going to complain. 

“Was thinkin’ the little guy could stay up in one of the apartments upstairs? Any of ‘em empty?”

Alright that little guy comment might get him a punch to the throat but an apartment? He Was kinda expecting to just - sleep wherever the fuck he could. 

Apparently one of the apartments upstairs is empty so after being force fed by Damon’s family two hours later he’s upstairs checking out the shitty apartment with Damon and his dad.

It needs some work. A lot of work. He probably won’t do anything to it though, who knows how long he has until he needs to run again. 

He’s lived in worse. 

“How much is rent? I don’t got much right now but I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

The money in his back pocket feels heavy. Does he use it? If he doesn’t use it then Ian just went home with no money for no reason. All that hard work and he just gave it to Mickey? Without hesitation? 

Ian gave him his money because he loves him. He knows that. He knows that not using it would be bad. 

**_Not leave you at the border after making it seem like you had every intention to come with you to come with you bad but still, bad._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** So, he’s going to use the money because fuck Ian, it’s his now. 

“If you help us sell and move drugs then you can have it for free.” 

He should be keeping his head down, should be keeping his nose clean and be on the downlow. He shouldn’t be doing anything that could get him into trouble but fuck it - what the fuck else does he have to lose? 

Scratching his eyebrow, looking around the room. It’s a shitty loft apartment, there’s mold here and there with cabinets falling down, holes in the wall and he’s sure there’s some blood on one of the walls  **_but free is free._ **

“The fuck is the catch?” There’s no way someone is just offering a free place to a guy he just met just for selling drugs. There has to be a catch. 

The older man smiles, shaking his head. There’s a smile on his face and Mickey can't understand why or what it means. Why the fuck is he messing with him? 

“There’s no catch.”

Damon puts his hand on his shoulder, smiling. “Gonna be fun, little guy.” 

Mickey stiffens, glancing at the hand on his shoulder then back at him. He knows not every hand that touches him is going to end in blood or abandonment but he’s still uncomfortable, he still wants the hand off of him as quickly as possible. 

The fuckin’ little guy comments too, he remembers when he was a kid and everyone made fun of his height but he was a milkovich so he proved that he still was even without the height and soon people ran from him, he liked it until he didn’t anymore. 

He shrugs his shoulders, stepping away from him then looking at Damon’s dad. 

“Thanks.” Awkward head movement, almost a nod but hesitant because he’s still questioning what the hell just happened. There’s no way that all this just fell into his lap, the world is never on Mickey’s side. 

Good things don’t just happen to him and he gets to keep it. 

Good things don’t just happen to him without it meaning something is going to go wrong later. 

Good things don’t just happen to him without him having to give parts of himself away for it. 

Damon’s father reaches out to touch Mickey’s shoulder but he stops himself and Mickey’s so grateful, instead he just nods then they’re both out the door leaving Mickey alone in the empty apartment except for a bed and a few chairs. 

This is his. He’s never had anything that was just  **_his_ ** before. 

He lets out a deep breath before shoving the money into a drawer, he’ll use it but right now it just needs to be out of his pocket. 

He lays on the bed, it’s lumpy and uncomfortable but it’s a place to rest his head and get some sleep so he doesn’t complain. It’s better than a prison bed, that much he knows. 

He falls asleep and for the first time in years, he doesn’t dream about the beach and Ian Gallagher. He doesn’t dream about anything. 

\--

He was so cautious for the first month, barely talking to anyone and keeping himself out of sight except for when he was selling drugs with Damon. Answering every question anyone had for him with different grunts and blowing everyone off when they ask him to hang out after. 

He didn’t let himself sit at the bar he had to walk into to get to his apartment at the end of every day. But, there was always a drink just sitting at an empty spot at the bar when he walked in. George, turns out that’s Damon’s father's name, would just give him a gentle, fatherly like smile that he’s never personally seen before. Mickey would pretend he didn’t see it and head upstairs with a six pack, drink it all while watching whatever the fuck was on tv then pass out. 

Two and a half months passed before he finally took the drink from the bar. For some reason he spent all day thinking about Ian despite trying not to. So, he needed whatever was closest down his throat as quick as possible so he walked in through the heavy, wooden door and finally decided to drink it. He put down a few bills and headed back upstairs, drinking his six pack like he always does and passing out.

The same amount of bills are under his door when he wakes up. 

A week passes until he actually sits down. George gives him that smile again and this time he can’t keep his mouth shut. 

“The fuck is up with you?”

“Excuse me?” The man asks, suddenly much scarier than he ever has been but Mickey didn’t care. 

Mickey didn’t give a shit about anything these days. 

“The fuck you bein’ so nice to me for?”

George just shakes his head, jaw clenching and fist curled. 

Good, maybe he’ll hit him. Mickey’s always been good with fighting, with getting hit. He can handle the silence. He can handle a punch. He can handle violent words with violent fists. He can handle spitting out blood but what he can’t handle is someone being nice to him. It feels uncomfortable, like something is crawling underneath his skin. 

But the punch never comes. 

The pistol to his skull never comes.

There’s not a slur thrown at him.

George isn’t his father. 

Terry isn’t here. 

Not everyone is going to want to see him bleed.

Mickey doesn’t fucking get it. 

“Look kid, you remind me a lot of me. I was a fighter too, scrappy as hell when I was younger. I had a father who kicked me around,  _ putting it lightly _ . Damon told me a few things because that asshole just keep his fucking mouth shut but you’re a lot like me, kid. I’m not gonna sit here and expect you to blurt out your feelings but you are gonna have at least one drink with me every time you walk through that door. I’m not asking either.” 

Mickey blinks. He’s never been treated like this before. He’s either been treated like a piece of gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe or barely looked at.

“Whatever.” Mickey’s voice is tight but he takes the drink, looking down at the bar while he does so and that seems to be enough for George because he walks away to talk to someone else.

That happens every day for the next three months.

Mickey goes to work, selling drugs with Damon and his crew. There’s very clearly some kind of cartel going on, he thinks George might be running it but Mickey doesn’t really care. He should be careful and for the most part he is, he doesn’t give anyone his real name. He looks down when he’s talking to anyone on the street. 

He’s getting more comfortable with the people he’s selling with. Damon and him will sometimes tell the story of them breaking out. Sometimes Mickey will just listen to the people talk, enjoying the sun while he does the numbers for the day. George invites him to dinner every night and even though he tells him to fuck off, there’s still a plate waiting outside his door. 

He tries not to think about Ian but sometimes he does. 

He tries not to wonder what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with but sometimes he does.

He tries not to think about what they would be doing right now if Ian just came with him but sometimes he does.

He hasn’t gone to the beach at all since being here. He refuses to because that was supposed to be their thing but it’s not. 

It won’t ever be.

Mickey’s trying to learn how to be okay with that. 

Mickey’s alone but that’s okay because he thinks it’s better that way.

It always has been. 

He spends every night locked up in his apartment. He hasn’t even tried to fuck anyone. He doesn’t want anyone touching him. It feels weird because usually sex helps him forget, it shuts everything off for a minute but he just wants to be alone, not speaking to anyone not touching anyone. He just wants to be alone. 

George seems to have other plans though. 

Five months in there’s a new bartender and yeah, Mickey’s not blind the guy is hot as hell. 

Yeah, okay, sure - so hot that maybe mickey wants him to bend him over the bar and fuck him so hard he forgets his own name. 

It’s been six months since he’s had anything in his ass and he’s starting to get a bit grumpier than usual. 

“Where the fuck is George?” 

The very, very pretty bartender just shrugs and pours him his usual. “Said he had shit to deal with, told me some grumpy asshole will be coming in around this time and to pour him a drink.” 

He smirks as he pushes the drink towards Mickey. 

“You seem like the  _ some grumpy asshole _ to me.”

Mickey scratches his nose, looking down at the drink with a slight pink tint to his cheeks. 

**_Jesus christ, Milkovich get it together._ ** Mickey looks at him and without breaking eye contact he takes the drink and swallows it all in one go. He pushes the empty glass forward and gets up, walking upstairs. 

“Mickey.” He hears his name as soon as he gets to the top of the stairs. He turns and when he does he’s against the wall and there’s lips on his.

Yeah, okay, the whole not wanting to be touched thing is for sure out the window. 

There’s hands everywhere, shirts are gone and Mickey’s trying to get into the apartment before he ruins his pants so he can at least get a dick in his ass but then there’s lips on his neck and grinding against him and holy fuck, he hasn’t had another person get him off in six months so yeah, with his hand gripping onto this mans back and his cock pressed against his, his orgasm hits quick but silently. 

There’s heavy breathing for a moment, Mickey taking a moment to come back to his senses then he’s pushing the guy off of him. 

He don’t know what the fuck just happened.

He liked it. 

He hates that he liked it. 

He hates that he likes to be touched. He hates that the person touching him isn’t Ian. He hates that someone other than Ian has touched him again. He just fucking hates that even though he knows Ian isn’t thinking about him at all he’s still thinking about the guy. 

He hates how uncomfortable he feels now but he doesn’t hate that it’s not because he fucked a guy but just because it’s not Ian. 

He’s gay. He likes sex. This has never been such a big fucking deal before so why is it now? 

“Vincent, by the way.”

Mickey’s still a little out of it as he grabs his shirt, making his way to his door. 

“Fuckin’ grandpa name.” Mickey mumbles as he fumbles to unlock the door. 

“You gonna tell me your story, Mickey?” 

“Ain’t got a story.” Finally the door is unlocked but for some reason he hesitates as Vincent gets closer to him. 

“Everyone’s got a story.” 

Mickey shakes his head, that uncomfortable feeling like something is crawling in his skin as he thinks about everything from his past life that feels like a lifetime ago is back. That’s not exactly the kind of story you tell. 

“I don’t.” 

Then Mickey’s inside and slams the door shut, locking it and he leans against the door.

He hears Vincent leave and Mickey just sighs. 

He’s fucked around with other guys before, in prison and out of prison. There’s been other guys besides Ian. 

He knows he’s never going to find another Ian. 

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to ever feel that way again.

So he takes a shower in his tiny shower and he eats leftovers, grabs his six pack of beer and turns on the tv. 

He feels relaxed. He feels okay. 

That’s what terrifies him the most. 

He didn’t hate it. 

He doesn’t know what to do with that. 

The next day Vincent isn’t there but George is, along with his drink that’s sitting at the empty spot. 

Mickey sits down, he drinks it slower than he usually does. He’s looking at George the entire time who is clearly pretending that he doesn’t see him staring. 

“How did you know?” _ How did he know Mickey is gay? _

George pauses his movements, eyes wide like he wasn’t expecting that question. He turns to look at Mickey. 

“Damon told me.”

He would believe that if wasn’t for the fact that George looks so fucking uncomfortable. 

“Fuck off. How did you know.” 

George sighs, like it’s painful for him to speak. “I know Terry.” 

It feels like everything just stopped. He feels like he’s suffocating, like there’s a hand the shape of his father’s around his throat but there’s nothing there, it’s just a memory. He grips onto the glass until it shatters in his hand and the glass now in his hand is enough for him to break away from his thoughts.

“Fuck.” He mumbles to himself, not wanting to make a scene so he just starts to head up the stairs. 

He should’ve fucking known. He should’ve known that it was too good to be true. That there was always a catch. That someone was always going to stab him in the back. It was a trap. This whole thing was a trap. 

Being nice. The apartment. The job. Vincent. It was all just a trap. 

And, he fell for it. He let himself believe in it when he should’ve known.

It’s not like he trusted the guy. It’s not like he thought this was some fairytale world. He knew what he was getting involved in but he still thought -  _ jesus christ he doesn’t know what the fuck he thought  _ but fuck him for letting himself get comfortable.

“Mickey - it’s not what you think.” George must’ve followed him up but the door slams shut before he has a chance to continue. 

Mickey feels like he can’t breathe, like the walls of this tiny apartment are caving in. Like there's someone or something just sitting on his chest. And, once again, that feeling of something crawling underneath his skin. 

He’s against the door, trying to control his breathing until he can’t until he just lets out a scream like that one in the car. 

He lets himself just feel it all, everything he’s been stuffing down since he crossed the border. 

He lets himself be  **_angry_ ** ,  **_sad_ ** and  **_hurt_ ** . 

He knows he’s being a pussy and he knows this would’ve ended with him bleeding if he was home. 

Hell, this probably would’ve ended with him dead if he was home.

But he’s not home, he’s  **_alone_ ** in Mexico. 

So it only ends with him packing up what little he owns and being on the move again, he knew this wasn’t going to last a long time but a little part of him hoped that for once something would just last.

Mickey Milkovich doesn’t get to hope for things. 

Mickey Milkovich is fucked for like and he knows that.

Shoving what little clothes he can into the bag when he door opens. He freezes, stiffens up and expects his head to be thrown into the wall but it never comes.

“I said I knew your father not that I believed the same things as he did.”

Mickey just ignores him and just continues to shove clothes into the bag because if he doesn’t then he’ll use the only form of communication he was ever taught and that involves his fist. 

“Mickey -  **_I’m gay_ ** .” 

Mickey freezes again but he doesn’t turn around, he stays still.

It’s a trap. Everything in him is telling him that it’s a trap, there’s no way because this isn’t how his life works.

“Mickey, the kids mother is my best friend. We’re still married and we’ve stayed together because it’s easier but she knows, hell I think the kids may even know. The world has progressed over the years but you’re sure as hell not going to be respected as a cartel leader if you’re out. So, to keep up with appearances I’ve stayed married.”

Mickey gets that, he gets that more than anyone. He would probably still be in the closet to keep up with appearances if it wasn’t for Ian forcing him out.

But he knows that’s not what it is for him though. He knows the only reason he stayed in the closet was because he was terrified of what other people that don’t even deserve to have an opinion of him would act. Ian forced him out because he knew that was the only way for him to be free, Ian forced him because he loved him and just wanted to help him out of that hole he dug himself so deep into. 

He wanted Mickey to be Mickey.

But turns out Mickey being Mickey has only resulted in pain and abandonment. 

“That doesn’t explain how you know my - how you know Terry.” 

George nods like he knows and he sits down on Mickey’s couch patting the spot next to him but Mickey shakes his head, staying right where he is. 

George chuckles a bit at that, Mickey doesn’t get why. 

“We used to run drugs together. We worked in the same cartel a few years ago, you were a kid. He was always very vocal about how much he hates people like us. I never let it get to me but I heard about Terry Milkovich’s gay kid, news like that travels fast.” He pauses, taking a deep breath like what he’s going to say next hurts him physically to say. Mickey knows that all too well.

“My dad was a Terry. Beat me, tried to kill me for who I was. Almost succeeded a few times. So, I get what it’s like to grow up with a Terry. I’m not anything like those men. I might’ve slapped my dumbass kids around a few when they were kids but hell, you’ve seen Damon ain’t nothing he didn’t deserve. So, you don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna tell Terry you’re here and neither is anyone else. If they do, they have to deal with me.”

Yeah, this man is soft but Mickey can tell he can kill someone with his bare hands if he needed to. 

George stands up. Looking around the apartment. 

“This place is yours, Mickey. Make it yours.” And then he’s gone, locking and shutting the door behind him.

Mickey is alone again and he has no idea what the fuck just happened but it does feel easier to breathe. It does feel like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He doesn’t feel safe, he’ll never feel completely safe but he does feel whatever the closest to that can be. 

Palm of his hand pressing into his eyes as he feels the stinging of tears threatening to fall. 

He exhales. 

\---

The next couple months Mickey spends working and slowing making his apartment somewhat liveable. He patches the holes, he’s never done that before nor has he seen anyone do it before so Vincent helps him. 

He didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter, he saw him bringing up the stuff and apparently the guy also does house work. Because he has to be perfect at everything. 

They haven’t had a conversation though, their interactions mostly consist of Vincent talking and Mickey ignoring him. There hasn’t been any grinding or kissing but Mickey has thought about it. Even to just shut him the hell up.

The worst part of all this is that Mickey doesn’t exactly hate the guy. He wishes he could hate him because that would make this easier. 

It’s not like he’s going to fall in love with him. He knows he’ll never do that again. He knows he’ll never feel that way about another person again. There’s not another Ian for him. There’s no one that he will let himself be that comfortable with again. He’s okay with that. He doesn’t want another Ian. He had his Ian and that’s gone now, he’s okay with that. 

So when Vincent and Mickey finally fall into bed together a week later, all passion with clothes ripped and heavy breathing afterwards he doesn’t freak out again because that’s all this is. It’s sex. 

If Vincent wants more than too fucking bad because this is all Mickey has to offer.

A few weeks later the walls are patched with a fresh coat of paint. He has an actual bed with an actual frame. A couch that doesn’t smell like someone died on it. A tv that is bigger than the size of a small microwave. The cabinets are no longer hanging off the hinges in the kitchen. 

Turns out Mickey has a little bit more to offer than just sex. Vincent and him settle into this dynamic, Mickey wouldn’t exactly call them friends but Vincent probably wouldn’t hesitate to. They talk about tv shows and they sit at the bar together, laughing at the drunk customers. They watch stupid movies together. They fuck. They don’t talk about anything serious and it’s good, it’s easy. 

Mickey knows what falling in love feels like. He knows what that feeling is and this isn’t that. 

He’s okay with that. 

He’s okay with the fact that he doesn’t have Ian anymore and he’s okay with the fact that all Vincent will ever be is this. 

Mickey’s okay with being alone at the end of the day and it should hurt more than it does. It should feel worse than it does. But he’s comfortable in it. 

Of course he misses Ian, he still sleeps with his stupid hoodie and he still thinks about the beach. 

Yeah, maybe thinking about them together at the beach one day gets him through the day like it did in prison. He’s not in denial but it’s easier to pretend like there’s something to look forward to even though Mickey’s not stupid enough to believe Ian will ever be part of his life again. 

\---

10 months in. 

“So, you gonna tell me your story, Milkovich?” Vincent asks as he’s pulling his pants back on. 

Mickey rolls his eyes as he sits up in bed and lights a cigarette. “Ain’t got a story to tell.” 

“Everyone’s got a story.” 

“Then why don’t you go fuckin’ find someone that wants to tell you theirs ‘cause that ain’t me.” He huffs, why does everything gotta turn so fucking complicated? Why do people always want to talk? Can’t he just get fucked then smoke in peace?

“Don’t worry, I ain’t falling in love with you. Don’t want to hear your story because I can’t get the great Mickey Milkovich out of my head. Just tryin’ to get to know the friend that my dick has been in. Many times.”

He almost believes Vincent. 

“Not your friend.” Mickey doesn’t have friends. He never has. He’s not going to start now. 

“Fuck off, I’m your friend. Get the fuck over yourself.” Vincent steals the cigarette from Mickey’s mouth when he climbs back into the bed, settling on his side. 

“Daddy died? Mommy drank too much? A guy break your heart?” 

Mickey lets out something that resembles a laugh, bitter and distant. “Dead mom. Dad tried to beat the gay out of me.” He blinks, thinking about how he tried to do more than that but he’s not sure any amount of great sex is going to get him talking about that. 

“And a guy broke your heart.” 

Mickey doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t like to think of Ian as the guy that broke his heart because there was so much more than just that. Ian changed his entire world. Ian loved him for him. Ian kept fighting for him when there was nothing to fight for. Saw him, the real him when no one had ever seen him before because Mickey kept that part of himself hidden. Everyone ran away from Mickey but Ian ran full speed at him even when Mickey was terrified. 

Ian isn’t just the guy that broke his heart. Ian was the guy who built his heart. Ian was the guy that allowed his heart to have a chance. Ian saved him. He won’t let him just be the guy that broke his heart but he can’t talk about it. 

“Something like that.” He looks at his phone, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you got somewhere to be?”

There’s a slight smirk on Vincent's face as he stands up like he had got somewhere in digging into his life.

“I’m gonna get the story out of you, Milkovich.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes, flipping him off. “Good fuckin’ luck.”

\---

**A year.** **  
** **  
** He has a comfortable routine. He never thought life would be comfortable, much less working for a cartel would be comfortable but George trusts him with jobs that require more responsibility. He moves drugs and tells people what to do. He stays out of all the heavy stuff, apparently George likes to handle that stuff and Mickey is more than okay with that. 

Mickey’s seen enough traumatizing shit for one lifetime, thank you very fucking much. 

Mickey’s apartment no longer looks like it would belong on the front page of some record book for most ways a single apartment can kill someone. 

The walls are a light grey. His drawings that he likes to work on late at night hang on the wall above his bed. He bought another couch. He never has anyone over except Vincent and Damon so there isn’t really a need for that much couch space but he likes the way one was green and the other was blue so he bought it because he could.

He has a few house plants that Vincent thought would be funny to give him because he knew he would kill them and Mickey kept them alive for a good couple weeks before they eventually just died. They’re still around his apartment though. 

Things with Vincent are the same, they hook up and they hang out. He still doesn’t feel anything and he’s still okay with that. If Vincent feels any other way he doesn’t ever bring it up. 

Mickey eats dinner with Damon and George’s family every friday night. 

It’s nice. He doesn’t feel like he’s part of the family like he did with the Gallagher’s because he just doesn’t let himself get attached like that but the food is good and the way they all interact with each other does remind him of the Gallagher’s sometimes. There’s eight of them in total and they all like each other in a way that reminds him of the family he was almost allowed to be part of. 

His family never spoke unless it was with violent words, fists or someone needed something from someone. 

He hangs out at the bar more often, spends less time alone in his apartment. 

But every night he still goes to sleep after a six pack of beer, alone.

\---

**Now.** ****  
**  
** Mickey’s getting ready for work, he’s late so he throws on the closest thing to him which happens to be Ian’s hoodie on top of his white tank top and a pair of jeans he’s worn every day this week but he doesn’t care, he’s tired and hungover, ready to spend the day doing what needs to be done as a distraction. 

He hears muffled voices in the hallway, he figures it’s just a couple of the guys coming to annoy his ass until he was out the door. 

The last person he’s expecting to see when he opens the door is  **_Ian Gallagher_ ** .

He doesn’t know if he’s still dreaming or not. He doesn’t know if he’s actually awake and if he is, is he just seeing things? He feels like he might pass out. 

He wants to run away and he wants to stay still. 

He just stares at him.

He doesn’t know what he feels but there’s something bubbling in his chest and he needs to get the fuck out of here. 

Work, he needs to get to work. He’s already late. 

He doesn’t say anything, he just walks past him and he’s down the stairs.

“Mick, someone was looking for you.” Vincent tells him, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder with a smirk like he knows it’s the guy they never actually talked about but he somehow knew existed. 

He ignores him, he ignores everything. 

He just needs to get the fuck out of there. 

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah ! There's that ! I hope you enjoyed this ! 
> 
> \- Yeah, Damon obviously knew where Ian was in the first chapter he just wanted to mess with Ian a bit.
> 
> \- I know people get weird about the idea of Mickey seeing other people in Mexico so I hope I handled this the right way!
> 
> \- I love George and he could easily kill me for it but I wanna boop his nose. 
> 
> But yeah! I hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think and next chapter will be Ian and Mickey ~ talking ~ 
> 
> Leave a kudos, a comment and mayhaps just, have a good day ! 
> 
> Twitter: ianlovebot  
> Tumblr: sandymilkovich


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets a bloody nose and Ian tells Mickey why he was in jail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I didn't mean for this to take as long as it did but Someone ( me ) went into a bit of a low, foggy head period and some writers block so it was Difficult. this isn't as long as the last one and probably not as good, i do apologize for that but ! here she is and i hope everyone enjoys. for shelby, willa and vic as always <3

The humid air hits Mickey’s face as he walks outside, it feels just as hot as the anger that runs underneath his skin. He can’t fucking believe this is happening, he can’t believe Ian Gallagher is just at his door. 

What the fuck was Ian expecting? That he’d show up and Mickey would open the door with open arms and they’d start their new life together?

Well fuck, he’s so much of a fucking pussy, always crawling right back to the guy that he probably thought that’s exactly what would happen. 

Mickey’s walking fast, he has a couple options here - he could go to work, pretend everything is fine like he’s so good at doing or he can skip ( probably not the smartest idea when you work for a cartel ) and go get hammered. 

Hammered in a bar that doesn’t have Ian Gallagher, his weird gay cartel leader boss, and the guy behind the bar that he’s been fucking and spending time with. 

He decides to head to a bar, he’s never been in it because apparently it’s George’s biggest competition but fuck that, this isn’t about loyality right now he just needs to stop feeling this way and the only way he knows how to do that is with cheap tequila. 

It’s quiet in here, no one to bug the fuck out of him as he sits at the bar. Not even the bartender, Mickey just tells him what he wants and he gets it. There’s no sharing feelings, there’s no one trying to get into his business. 

It’s nice, he’s there for a few hours just drinking and not looking at anyone. 

He can’t fucking believe this. Ian is just here after all this time? After just leaving him at the border in a fucking dress. He was finally fucking okay with it, he was finally, a year into this nightmare, okay with the fact that Ian was just someone he was going to have to love his entire life without actually being with. 

For the first time in his life he might actually be angry with Ian and he’s not sure how to feel about that. He’s been angry around Ian before, he’s acted in anger towards Ian many times but all those times it was always at himself, his father, Ian’s diagnoses, or something else - there was always an excuse so he didn’t have to be angry at Ian.

Because when Mickey is angry he reminds himself of Terry, that all consuming rage that comes out in ways he doesn’t even realize until the feeling clears. 

Anger is the only thing Terry ever taught him, the only thing Terry cared about teaching his kids. 

How to be angry, the best ways to get it out, the best people to get it out on. 

Mickey learned over time, that great feeling he got when he was letting out his anger only made him hate himself more. He hates how much he enjoys the anger, makes him sick to his stomach to the point he’s almost thrown up more than once.

So Mickey has never let himself actually be angry with Ian because Mickey’s anger is never his own, it’s Terry’s and Mickey can’t let himself do that to Ian, for Ian and himself.

He lets himself get drunk, he lets himself drink until the anger is dulled, still there but dulled. He gets off the stool, throwing some money on the bar then he’s walking out but someone stumbles into him because this is a bar and there’s drunks, it’s going to happen and usually Mickey will just tell them to fuck off then keep walking but not today.

It really all happens so fast. Mickey acting on impulse, acting on the anger that he knows is not his own but instead just his fathers that’s so deeply ingrained in him that he’s not even sure he would know what his own anger would feel like. 

Mickey pushes the man into the bar, a few punches to the face before there’s a hand on his shoulder while they yell about how this is his friend. 

They get a few punches to the face too, fists swinging.

Mickey’s not good at much, he knows this but he’s always been good at fighting. 

Mickey doesn’t see it coming but then there’s a fist making contact to his jaw, causing him to stumble and fall. His original victim gets a few good kicks in to the ribs, for sure bruising them before spitting on him then walking away. 

That could’ve gone worse. 

The bartender yells that he’s banned from the bar as he walks out the door. 

No problem. 

____________

Mickey walks into the bar that he’s so familiar with, hand clutching at his ribs and face bleeding, knuckles bruised and bloodied. 

George is standing there, towel over his shoulder and a disappointed look that only a caring father can give. 

Mickey never got that look. 

It was always hatred, it was always a fist to his face or a pistol to his skull. 

It was always disowning him. 

It was never disappointment that a caring father has, just pure hatred. 

“Beer.” Mickey says as he sits down, a hiss leaving his lips from pain in his ribs. 

He’s had worse. 

George just glares at him, shaking his head and pointing towards the bathroom. 

Mickey doesn’t move but then there’s a dish towel smacking him across the head. 

“Bathroom.” Stern tone causing goosebumps to prickle across Mickey’s arm but he’s not scared, he doesn’t know if that’s just because he’s numb at this point and doesn’t really care if he gets another punch to the face or because he knows, deep down, that George actually cares. 

It freaks him the fuck out, he doesn’t get it.

But still, Mickey stands and follows the man into the bathroom. 

George doesn’t say anything and Mickey feels like a kid, a kid in the way he never got to be because there was no one to take care of him. His mother did for a little while but even then she didn’t really know what she was doing. 

George wets the washcloth that’s resting on his shoulder and grabs Mickey’s face. 

Mickey almost decks him right in the face for that even if it was just a reflex but he doesn’t, he stands still with his arms crossed and breathing heavily. 

“Deal go wrong?” George asks, cleaning the blood off Mickey’s face.

Mickey shakes his head with a hiss. “Bar fight.”

“Bar fight in the middle of the day, Milkovich? Supposed to be moving my shit, I don’t trust those idiots to do it themselves.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything, he’s just quiet. Mickey’s good at being quiet, at not speaking even when there’s a million and one things on the tip of his tongue just begging to be heard. 

“You forget how to use your words?” George moves to wet the washcloth again, Mickey moves to the other side of the room.

“Some kid showed up looking for you earlier, he find you?”

A bitter, short and tight laugh - it’s more just like a breath through his nose - escapes Mickey. Clearly exhausted, clearly still angry. 

“Yeah, he found me.” 

George nods, stepping forward again to clean the rest of the blood. 

“Is he the guy?” 

Mickey doesn’t say anything, just a quick nod because he can’t deny that. He can’t deny that Ian is the guy because yeah, he’s the guy.

“Want me to take care of him?” Mickey can’t tell if George is serious. Did this guy just offer to off someone because Mickey shows up with a bloody nose and some broken ribs to match his broken heart?

“No, don’t want you to fuckin’ take care of him.” 

The bleeding has mostly stopped, Mickey can tell and tomorrow is gonna be a bitch with these ribs but it’s nothing that he hasn’t dealt with more than a handful of times before. 

If there’s anything Mickey Milkovich can handle it’s broken bones. 

What Mickey Milkovich can’t handle is the fact that the guy he thought he never was going to see again is here now. The same guy that left him at the border to deal with all this shit alone only to show up a year later is at his door. 

The same guy that taught him how to love and to be loved. The same guy that made him feel free and pushed him to be free. The same guy that he loves. 

Still loves. 

Will always love. 

All he wants to do is go be with him and let them fall into the comfortable pattern of just pretending like nothing has happened and go on until one of them breaks the others heart again. 

Mickey’s tired of that same cycle. He’s tired of hurting each other over and over again. He’s tired of being alone. 

Jesus fucking christ, he’s just fucking tired. 

“Listen kid, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But if this guy is the one for you, if this guy is the guy and he came back for you then that means something. He must mean something to you, it’s a rare thing to be loved and be loved back these days. Don’t let that slip away again just because you’re worried about what it may mean and what has happened in the past.” 

He squeezes Mickey’s shoulder despite knowing that touching isn’t really Mickey’s favorite thing but in that moment, Mickey does take comfort in it. He takes in the words and he swallows. 

Yeah, alright. 

“Taking money out of your pay this week for the stunt you pulled though.” Then he’s out of the bathroom and Mickey’s alone.

He looks at himself in the mirror for a moment, he looks like a mess and he knows it. Feels like a mess too but he breathes in then breathes out.

Might as well get this over with. He’s pretty sobered up now. 

Ian’s still sitting there when Mickey makes it up the stairs and Mickey’s not exactly sure why that causes him to stop or why his breath gets stuck in his throat a bit. He was almost expecting for Ian to be gone but he was still there. Waiting. 

Mickey knows first hand that waiting and having patience isn’t exactly something Ian is fond of. 

“Mick.” 

He’s standing in front of him now, those damn puppy dog eyes looking right at him. 

He moves around Ian so he can open his apartment, looks at him and nods. 

“C’mon.”

Ian smiles, that beautiful smile that Mickey has missed so much. His real smile and that’s how Mickey knows this isn’t Ian being manic, this isn’t Ian doing something dangerous or self destructive just to feel something but instead this is the real Ian. This is the Ian he fell in love with. 

For some reason that makes things harder. 

“What happened to your face?” 

So just pretending everything is fine has started, pretending like the past year hasn’t happened and just falling into something comfortable and familiar. 

Mickey chooses to ignore him, chooses to not continue that pattern.

If they’re going to do this then they need to do it right or some shit. 

Mickey doesn’t know where the fuck he got that from or why the fuck he feels this way because at the end he knows it’s going to end with Ian Gallagher because for Mickey everything starts and ends with Ian Gallagher. 

He knows no matter what, the guy now standing in the middle of his apartment in Mexico will never not be under his skin. 

Mickey grunts a response as he grabs the one of two pots of his to make some mac and cheese but one of them falls to the ground and it causes Ian to jump as he pulls out one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table Mickey has. 

Mickey raises a brow at him but continues what he’s doing before looking at him. 

“Mick can I just - ”

“Gallagher, I’m fuckin’ hungry and I just got the shit kicked out of me so you mind if I get some food in my fuckin’ belly before you start rambling?” 

Ian gives a tight nod, clearly trying to stop himself from saying anything else because his jaw is clenched.

There’s a silence. 

They’ve sat in silence before. 

When they were just starting this thing between them, when it was nothing more than sneaking off when Ian was hanging out with Mandy or Mickey coming to the store with a stupid excuse and stupid pick up line to go with it, Mandy would pause whatever game they were playing because he had to piss which would leave the two of them alone and they just sat in silence then. 

Under the bleachers or the dugouts, passing a cigarette or a joint back and forth after fucking. 

On the couch, watching a movie but still taking the time to look at each other and pretend the other didn’t see it. 

At the Gallagher kitchen table and in the room that had way too many boys sleeping in it. 

In Mickey’s room when Ian had just gotten out of his first depressive episode and everything was calm for a minute or two. Ian’s hand running through Mickey’s hair and Mickey pretending to sleep because he never wanted it to end. 

Staring at the stars the night before Mickey crossed the border alone. 

Their entire relationship has been filled with comfortable silences thrown in between the chaos of whatever bad situation they were in at the time. 

But this isn’t a comfortable silence, this is uncomfortable and Mickey thinks he’s the one doing it, he thinks he’s doing it on purpose to prove some point but he’s not exactly sure what fucking point he’s trying to make. 

Attention back on the mac and cheese and when it’s done, Mickey gets two bowls because Ian is there and that’s just instinct, it will always be instinct for Mickey to just care about Ian. 

So Mickey pours the food into two bowls and grabs two forks, throwing one in the bowl for Ian and shoving it his way as he joins Ian at the table. 

Ian nods a thank you, stares at the bowl and looks like he was in pain trying to keep his mouth shut and Mickey almost laughs at it until he just blurts out. 

“I went to jail.”

Mickey already has a mouthful of mac and cheese by that time so he almost chokes, starts coughing and Ian looks like he’s going to kick into emt mode before Mickey cleares his throat, brows raised. 

“The fuck?” 

“Blew up a van.” 

But that wasn’t who he was anymore huh? The whole reason his ass got left at the border and he had to cross alone was because Ian just wasn’t that guy anymore and Mickey’s been trying to figure out whatever the fuck that meant but apparently it meant Ian couldn’t go to mexico because he was going to be spending his time blowing up vans, got it. 

Mickey, confused, exhausted and exasperated just scratches at his eyebrow. 

“The fuck you do that for, Ian?” 

Ian smiles like Mickey saying his name means something and they both know that it does. 

“Wanted to help these kids. God - Mick, they just needed help. I wanted to help them and it became this bigger thing, it got out of hand. Became a gay icon.” 

“A gay icon, huh?” Mickey laughs because of course Ian Gallagher became a gay icon, he truly didn’t expect anything less.

“Yeah. Gay jesus.”

“Gay jesus?” Mickey questions looking confused and exhausted as ever.

“Yeah, Mick. Gay jesus like the son of God but gay.” Ian smirks as he blows on the mac and cheese on his fork.

“I know who the fuck Jesus is supposed to be.” Mickey rolls his eyes then kicks him under the table. “You gonna tell me how the fuck this ended with you blowin’ up a van and gettin’ your ass thrown in jail?” 

“You kinda keep interrupting me.” Ian smirks as he shoves some food into his mouth. 

“Take it as payback for all the years your ass interrupted me.” 

“I’ve never interrupted you.” 

“Holy fuck, Gallagher just get on with it.”

“Jesus, okay - well there were these kids and their parents, these priests and everyone else were trying to tell them that they were wrong and trying to change them because they were gay, lesbians, trans, or whatever the fuck they decided to label themselves as. They kept trying to change them just because of the fuckin’ big guy in the sky saying that it’s wrong but God just wanted everyone to love each other, that’s it so I couldn’t sit around watching while these kids were being forced back into the closet and not being loved just because of their homophobic views and usin’ God as an excuse.”

Mickey smiles softly because of course the only reason Ian Gallagher got thrown in jail is because of his big heart. 

“You some big church goer now?”

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t really know what to believe.”

Then, Ian swallows the rest of his food and Mickey does the same, just trying to take in everything that Ian said then Ian is looking at him, messing with the fork in his hand and Mickey has been around Ian long enough to know that means whatever is about to come out of Ian’s mouth next is going to knock the wind out of him so he braces himself.

“I thought - Fuck, Mick. I couldn’t help you then. I just, there was nothing I could do and even if there was, I was just a kid too and I couldn’t do shit but I still regret not being able to help you the right way, that there was no one to help you. To help me. To help us. But, I’m not a kid anymore so I thought helping them would make up for that. I just - I thought if I could help these kids then maybe just fucking maybe it would make up for it all somehow. That’s how my manic, messed up brain thought of it and I know I really wanted to help those kids because they’re just kids but - I knew deep down there was another reason too.”

Mickey feels the tears in his eyes and he closes them before they have a chance to slip. 

Holy fuck. 

Ian was out there fighting for people because of him. Part of the reason Ian did all that because of all the bullshit Mickey had to deal with over the years from his father and it reminded Ian of him. 

He knows it’s because Ian just has a big heart but to hear all of that makes Mickey’s chest ache in a way he never thought he was going to be able to feel again. The way Ian always makes his chest ache when things are good, when he says something that makes Mickey feel more than just a piece of shit.

Ian thought of him, Ian was out there thinking of him all while Mickey was sitting here in his apartment alone thinking that Ian had moved on and didn’t want anything to do with him. 

Mickey isn’t sure if that just makes everything okay but right now he doesn’t care, right now he doesn’t care about the past or whatever else happened because right now all he wants to do is kiss him.

So he does. 

He stands up and Ian does the same thing.

They’re standing there from their sides of the table just staring at each other. It’s like they’re scared to move and scared to touch each other. Like if they move then one of them is going to evaporate and this is all some stupid dream.

But then Mickey is moving, he’s got his hand on Ian’s cheek and he closes the distance. 

The kiss is heavy and full of weight, Ian wraps his arms around Mickey and pulls him closer to him. 

It feels like fireworks are going off between them like it always does after a period of time of not seeing each other or touching each other like this. They’ve done this before, this kiss before as they pour their feelings out to each other through their lips touching because they can never get it right with words. 

They keep kissing because they’re afraid to pull away because they’re always fine when they’re kissing, like the world just stops while they’re kissing and nothing can hurt them. 

But more than that Mickey has missed him - so fucking much and by the way Ian is kissing him, Mickey thinks that Ian feels the same way which Mickey can’t even begin to understand why.

They keep kissing and then it changes from i love you, i miss you to take your clothes off right now and they’ve always been good at this so who gives a fuck if that’s not the right thing. Who gives a fuck if Ian decides to leave again tomorrow because right now Ian wants him and Mickey’s going to let that happen. 

They’re pulling at each others clothes then they’re pulling away so Ian’s shirt can come off and Mickey’s pants can be pulled down. 

They’re halfway done undressing, about to start kissing again when there’s a knock at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliff hanger simply because ~drama~ but i !!! hope everyone liked this !!! i hope everyone is doing well and taking care of themselves. There's so much going on the world right now and I hope you realize that you're important so you're making sure to do everything to take care of yourself. Also, here's an important carrd ( https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co/ ) that has all you need to know about all the stuff in the world so please make sure to check that out! 
> 
> don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think ! 
> 
> twitter: ianlovebot   
> tumblr: sandymilkovich


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t stay here.” 
> 
> Ian, the fucking beautiful dumbass just looks at him and says, “You want me to get a hotel or something?” 
> 
> Mickey sighs, jesus fucking christ. 
> 
> “Fuck - Ian, no. I want you to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, so the original plan was for this to be a bit longer and i was gonna actually write out a sex scene but as i started i realized i haven't written a sex scene in about 5 years and i don't really want to, oops. so, here's this. as always, thank you to shelby, vic and willa for just being you. enjoy!

The knock at the door causes noses to bump into each other, foreheads to knock together and a “fuck” to softly slip past mickey’s lips because he knows exactly who it is behind the closed door. Right now he just wants to keep this, keep them here in this little bubble and ignore the rest of the world because nothing good ever happens for them when the door opens. 

“Ignore it.” it’s whispered against ian’s lips. 

But the knocking doesn’t stop, it only gets louder and every single time the person’s fist hits against the shaky door it makes both men french. 

A tough prison sentence added to shitty childhoods will do that to you. It makes mickey ache, Ian was never really the jumpy type - that was always him. Hell, most of the time Ian could ignore every sound around him but from what he’s seen just in the past twenty minutes is - that’s no longer the case. 

“You’re really popular tonight.” Ian whispers against Mickey's jaw and Mickey swears the arms that are wrapped around his waist hold him tighter like he’s begging him to not move but it might just be wishful thinking. 

“Yeah, real fuckin’ popular guy.” Mumbled and Mickey pats Ian’s chest a  _ I’m going to answer the door. please don’t leave. Please still be here.  _

Tattooed fingers open up the door, Vincent ( just as Mickey suspected ) on the other side with a 6 pack and a smile that makes Mickey want to puke.

Mickey might not give a fuck about the guy the way he gives a fuck about ian but, there’s still part of him that thought he could have a friend.

He’s never had that - a friend. There’s ian and there’s Sandy but he can’t really count them, can he? 

So he has this friend, yeah they’ve hooked up and no he doesn’t have any romantic feelings towards the guy but at the end of the day, he cares about the guy because fuck - he’s a good guy, he was a friend that was there for him when he had no one else and now he’s probably gonna lose that.

Because Mickey loses everything he’s ever cared about. 

Mickey loses things, he always had. It started when he was a kid and his favorite spider escaped when one of his brothers took the lid off as a fucked up joke. When his mom bailed a few times before she was finally lucky enough to kick the bucket. 

Mandy. 

Ian. 

Fuck, even the Gallaghers. 

So yeah, he is expecting to lose the first friend that isn’t ian because ian is back, because ian is here and this is his story that mickey was keeping from Vincent every single time he asked. 

“Well, didn’t realize you had company. Would’ve brought another six pack.” thick accent as he comes walking in the door. 

“ _ Jesus christ _ .” Mickey’s thumb rubs against his eyebrow then the door shuts. 

“Who is this?” ian speaks up, brows raised but looking almost like he wants to laugh at how uncomfortable Mickey looks. 

_ Yeah, laugh it up you fucker.  _

“Vincent. Mickey’s friend.” He looks at Mickey, smiles like he’s doing him a favor for not saying  _ I stick my dick up his ass sometimes because you left him at the border  _ except not the last part of that because Vincent doesn’t know any of that. 

“Friend?” Ian leans against the wall, arms crossed and there’s a smirk on his lips. He’s fucking amused and if mickey didn’t know ian so well he would think he’s being cocky but  **_no, this is him jealous_ ** . 

Mickey starts to understand why Ian got a kick out of making him jealous that one summer, there’s a smile forming on his lips just at the slight implication that Ian is feeling anything slightly related to jealousy. 

“Jesus - Ian, this is Vincent. Vincent, this is ian.” Mickey finally shuts the door and stomps over to the middle of the room. 

“He do this to you?” Vincent asks, pointing to Mickey’s bruised face.

Does Vincent look worried about him? “Nah, got in a bar fight.” 

  
Tthat seems to be enough for the guy cause he drops it after that. 

“I can't stay, I just wanted to give you this since I drank the last one.“ Mickey knows that’s not true, Mickey drank the last one but he’s glad a guy can read a fucking room unlike ian.

“Yeah- thanks man.” Mickey stumbles over his words a bit, not exactly sure what to do. Awkward in a way he hates being. Terry would make fun of the way he would get so weird and awkward around other people when he was a kid. The only way he found a way around it was just to be mean. He doesn’t want to be mean without reason anymore. It’s exhausting. 

Vincent puts the six pack in the fridge, walks past Mickey and puts a hand on his shoulder, Mickey flenches but relaxes. “I assume he’s part of the story you refuse to tell me about.” A smile, like he’s happy for him and Mickey’s never had that. No one has ever just smiled at Mickey because he’s happy for him. especially not after finding out about the whole Ian thing.

The hand leaves his shoulder and he’s almost out the door but he turns and looks at ian. “Mickey’s my friend, I don't know the story between you two but I don't have to. You hurt him then you die, i know people. you got it?” 

Ian's eyes wide with shock like that was the last thing he was expecting and if mickey wasn’t still trying to process Vincent calling him a friend then maybe he’d laugh at him. 

Mickey nods at him, a thanks and Vincent nods right back then he’s out the door and the room is silent once again with just Mickey and Ian looking at each other. 

Maybe not bad shit doesn’t always have to happen every time a door opens. 

“Mick.” Ian's stepping closer to him now, large hand on his hip when he finally does make it to him. 

“Yeah?” eyes on him, it’s intense - both of them staring at each other with so much history, pain and love between the two of them. 

“I’m sorry.” And ian really means it, of course he does because Mickey has always known that Ian doesn’t actually want to hurt him. 

“I know.” 

“I love you.” 

_ The hell does that even mean?  _ _   
_ _ Then get in the fucking car. _

“I know.” 

A pause. 

“I love you too.” 

Ian smiles so wide that he almost looks like that kid with the goofy hair and freckles all across his face except now he looks tired and scared. 

“He’s not actually going to kill you.” And ian actually lets out a breath at that.  **_Jesus christ what did this kid go through in prison?_ **

Ian leans forward, kisses him again and Mickey just lets himself kiss back. His arms wrap around Ian and they’re moving towards the bed again. 

“Mickey.” Ian whispers against Mickey's mouth and it’s filled with so much guilt, love and neediness.    
  
**_Urgency_ ** , like with just his name whispered against his lips, he’s trying to tell him everything he feels.    
  
Mickey doesn’t want to hear it right now, he just wants to feel it. 

“Get these off.” He's tugging on Ian's pants before he just starts unbuckling them himself and shoves them down Ian's legs then he’s doing the same for his own as Ian kicks his pants off to the side. 

They’re kissing again until Ian pushes Mickey onto the bed, it’s just a mattress on the floor still so it’s a long way down and Ian's following. Hovering over him, large hands wrapped around his wrists and pressing them into the mattress, smiling while at him like he’s trying to see if this is real. It is and fuck, it feels so good and they haven’t even gotten to the good part. 

Ian’s kissing at his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down his collarbone and chest. Tatted fingers finding themselves in red hair, tugging a bit -  _ telling him to get a fucking move on.  _

“C’mon.” He grunts, Mickey has never been too good with patience but right now when he just wants to be with Ian, ignore the rest of the world and the pain that might come later. 

Ian smirks at him and Mikey knows exactly what that means. 

Mickey pushes away the feelings of worrying, pushes away the feeling in his gut about what’s to come as Ian fucks him blissfully into the mattress. 

They’re breathing heavily, Ian collapsed onto Mickey's chest as soon as his orgasm hit. Mickey’s hitting at the same time. They fall asleep like that, naked bodies pressed together and for the first time in a long time there’s feeling there’s that type of safe Mickey only ever gets to feel when he’s with Ian.

He can’t get used to it, he can’t trust it. He knows that but he lets himself fall asleep to the feeling. 

  
  
It’s around three in the morning when Mickey wakes up. Now, without the crushing feeling of the six foot man on top of him and he almost panics but he can feel his breath against his arm and his legs wrapped around his own as he wakes up more. 

He watches Ian just sleep for a minute. It’s the quiet before the storm, he’s been in it many times before.

He gets up, needing something to drink. His ribs hurt, his face hurts. Everything fucking hurts including the feeling deep in his chest that he can’t ignore 

  
  
He grabs a beer from the fridge, he can see his bed from the kitchen. He looks at ian sleeping and just shakes his head.    
  


He doesn’t belong here. 

The whole fucking reason he didn’t come with him in the first place was because Ian knew that. This isn’t the kind of life Ian is supposed to have. He was never fucked for life the way mickey was and still is. 

Mickey understood why Ian had to go back home. He understood why Ian had left him so Ian could go have a better life, he wanted that for ian. 

So he can’t just be fucking selfish and let Ian stay here, let Ian fuck up his life by being with him. 

Ian stirs awake and he looks around the bed for a minute before quickly glancing over towards the kitchen then he smiles, it’s sleepy and soft and reminds him of that summer when they let themselves pretend that everything was okay. 

“C’mere.” Ian whispers and Mickey just shakes his head. 

“You can’t stay here.” 

Ian, the fucking beautiful dumbass just looks at him and says, “You want me to get a hotel or something?” 

  
Mickey sighs,  **_jesus fucking christ._ **

“Fuck - Ian, no. I want you to go home.” 

Ian, clearly angry at that, just stands up. All the sleep clearly gone and now he’s wide awake. 

“You really want me to go home?” There’s pain in Ian’s eyes, beyond all the anger.  **_Fuck_ **

“Yeah.” Mickey swallows as he looks at the pain in Ian's eyes and he hates himself for it because he’s caused Ian enough pain and Ian's caused him enough. 

He's tired of hurting each other. If he stays, if he gets wrapped up in this life then it’s going to really hurt Ian because Ian wants to help people, he wants to be with his family. 

He wants Ian to have a stable life. 

Mickey can’t give him any of that right now. Or ever. He'll always be on the run. 

“You don’t belong here, Gallagher.” 

Ian shakes his head, clearly trying to hide both tears and anger as he stands in the middle of the room. 

“Tell me where the fuck I belong then, Mick. I got home and no one was fucking there. Fiona left, she fucked off and got her own life. Lip has his girlfriend and his baby. Debbie has her kid, I don’t even know what the fuck carl is doing but i’m sure he doesn’t need me. They all moved on without me, they all just fucking kept going while i was in there.” 

**_Yeah, welcome to Mickey’s world._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** Ian pauses, looking at him. He’s shaking with whatever he’s feeling. Probably sadness of having the family he loves so much not really ever giving him the same. Not that Ian ever really gave them the chance to.    
**_  
_ ** “I should’ve fucking waited. You asked me to wait and I didn’t get it then but I get it now. it’s so - fuck. It’s so fucking lonely in there. They take everything from you, even your fucking identity. I had nothing left. I thought of you, I was so fucking lonely and scared, I thought of you. How you had to go through that too. I fucking hate myself for it, Mick.” 

Ian's fists are clenched and his shoulders are high, he looks like he’s ready to fight and that’s exactly how he’s looked since he got here. He’s trying to make himself look bigger, tougher than he actually is and Mickey knows that all too well. 

“I should’ve waited. I should’ve called you. Visited you. I don’t fucking know but I didn’t.” Ian shakes his head. “No. I know why. I thought it was too fucking hard - I wanted to move the fuck on. I was embarrassed, scared. Scared of fucking up your life too but i fucked up. I should’ve came here with you instead of going back because I fucked that up too. I can't make it right, mick. i can't fix all my mistakes but i can be here with you now. You just have to let me.” 

All of it makes Mickey's chest ache. Leaves him speechless in a way Mickey rarely ever gets to be. He breathes out, that was everything he needed to hear since being in prison and he can’t even enjoy it.    
  
He wants to just hold him, promise him that it’s okay and he forgives him, that he can stay and they’ll be okay. He wants to just be with Ian. 

But, that’s not how it works. They don’t get to just have that. 

“You don’t belong here.” He repeats. 

Ian opens his mouth but Mickey just shakes his head, stepping closer to him and putting his hand over Ian's heart. 

“Go home.” 

Mickey stands there, with his hand over the heart of the only person that’s ever felt like home and tells him to go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. i hope you enjoyed : ) i wrote most of this at 4 am because that's apparently when I can do my best writing so if there's mistakes it's simply not my fault skjfnsdnf. leave a comment and let me know how you like it ! i hope everyone is taking care of themselves. 
> 
> twitter: ianlovebot  
> tumblr: sandymilkovich

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter! I have no idea how many chapters this is going to be but it won't be too long. Let me know what you thought about the first chapter and I should have the next chapter up next week! It'll be all about Mickey and what he has been doing in mexico. I hope everyone is doing well and taking care of yourself! Make sure you're still signing petitions and donating!
> 
> twitter: ianlovebot  
> tumblr: sandymilkovich


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